


Birth

by AnotherAnon0



Series: Toxic [7]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breeding, Cuckolding, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Ejaculation, I am Screaming into the Void, M/M, Monsters, Nicholai has to watch., Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Tyrant Dub-Con? Is that a tag?, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Nicholai meets Sergei's first Ivan T-103 Tyrant.~"What does it do...?" Nicholai asked tentatively.Sergei sighed, "He is my personal assistant.""It is not a man." Nicholai scoffed, furrowing his brow for a moment in confused silence, "Is it?"He shivered when Sergei declined to answer but for a predatory smirk, running his tongue over his teeth in amusement.
Relationships: Ivan | Tyrant T-103 Variation/Sergei Vladimir, Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Ivan | Tyrant T-103 Variation/Sergei Vladimir, Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Sergei Vladimir
Series: Toxic [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718308
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	Birth

"You aren't a religious man... are you, _comrade_?" 

Sergei's words dripped through his smirk with a mischievous venom, one that suggested his views towards the devout weren't particularly positive.

"No, Sir." 

"Your wife must be. The _Georgian_." The drip turned into a flood.

Mikhail rubbed his lips together, taking a deep, silent breath through his nose. "She is Orthodox. I am not."

The darkness of the elevator was interpolated with flashes of bright, white lights that cascaded down each of the occupant's bodies rapidly every few seconds in the descent to the refinery's underground. Nicholai cast his gaze through the small, oval window that overlooked nothing but the passing concrete wall, ignoring the other two men beside him. He knew Mikhail was directing a soft, somewhat pleading glance over at him he refused to reciprocate.

Internally, he wished Sergei would leave the older man alone for once.

Internally, he wondered why he cared.

"Well hopefully she prays for you." the Colonel scoffed a chuckle, "Not that it will help."

The elevator's jolt to a halt was a generous respite, the aluminium door sliding open to reveal a cabal of visually abusive machinery, bright lights, and grotesquely brutal industrialism. Umbrella's Caucasus facility had been populated in less than one year under Sergei's watchful eye, with the direction of invisible, omnipresent corporate higher-ups. The staff drifted around the refinery like ghosts, faces hidden behind blue and pink medical masks. Some days, Nicholai felt entirely alone at the massive refinery. Some days, he just barely caught the tail hem of a white lab coat as it floated around the corner. Disappearing. Silent. The faceless ghosts were told not to talk to him. 

Perhaps that's why he had grown somewhat closer to Mikhail in the recent weeks. He was a voice -- a human. Someone who wasn't Sergei. Someone who wasn't a faceless ghost he was trying to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of, floating down the corridors.

_Isolated._

Stepping out of the small shuttle, Sergei confidently strode to the left, craning past massive stacks of tremendous locked crates and shuttered doors towards a more well-established arena of the laboratory. The two other men followed closely, walking until the purpose for their visit became visible.

The tanks, neatly arranged in rows of six, contained all manner of beasts suspended in an unidentifiable, glassy liquid. Some had been imported from other Umbrella facilities. Others had been transmuted at the facility by the faceless ghosts. 

Sergei breathed in deeply through his nose, a tongue running along the length of his lower lip. His silence was unusual. A silence that caught the attention of both of the other men who had been trailing behind him as he weaved slowly through the rows of beasts, looking up at each one with a gaze that could only be interpreted as awe. Neither soldier shared the Colonel's expression when observing the contents of the tanks, noses crumpling and lips cocking in the slightest bit of disgust as they assessed the mangled bodies, claws, and teeth of the unholy bioweapons.

"I see why you mentioned religion now, _polkovnik_..." Mikhail started as he looked through them, swallowing hard. He reached up to adjust the collar of his sweater nervously, "This is... Biblical, I suppose."

Stopping before one that had an oddly humanistic look, Nicholai and Mikhail came to Sergei's sides, exchanging glances at each other over his chest. The Colonel brought a hand to the tank, a grin washing over his face as his fingers made contact with the glass. 

"They are angels." He said breathily, good eye wide with delight.

The bubble and hiss of machinery was all that penetrated the silence 

Nicholai took to the toes of his boots, lifting himself the necessary extra foot to meet his superior's ear.

"You are nuts." He whispered, sounding out the Russian equivalent clearly, " _Stuknutyî_."

Mikhail couldn't withhold the initial giggle, but quickly bringing a hand to cover his mouth to suppress any further sounds once an infuriated glare was fired in his direction like a bullet. 

Sergei turned towards Nicholai once he had sufficiently, silently chastised the Captain, huffing a breath of adamance through flared nostrils. 

" _Kolya_ , I don't expect the _terrorist_ to understand but surely _you_..." He began prodding the tank with his finger, "Would know the significance of this."

"Enlighten me."

Sergei shook his head, biting his lip in disappointment. 

"This is... This is a new era of warfare." He said, turning to look at the tank again, "This is the perfection of the human condition... The perfection of the soldier." 

A twisted grin came over his lips as his good eye floated over the naked form of the humanoid creature suspended within, "This is the beginning of the end of disease. Of humans in battle. Of needless death." Sergei sighed excitedly.

"Of course, this is not terribly different than what we Soviets were doing before..." Sergei trailed off, still beaming but ' _the collapse of the USSR_ ' an unavailable phrase in his lexicon, "Umbrella is just continuing the work _**we** _very proudly started."

_Proudly._

Nicholai felt his head starting to drum with the beginnings of a headache. He remembered the stories -- murmurs through the barracks -- of soldiers, mangled by experiments and unknown injections. Breeding men with... god knows what. Bodies piling up in unmarked mass graves. Cadets talking in the canteen about their cousin's cousin having a closed casket funeral after being selected for _some_ program that left them deformed in some unholy way.

He recalled the year he and Sergei returned from their first tour in Afghanistan, and Sergei was chosen for such a program. It led to hours of Nicholai begging him not to go. Pleading at his feet, hands wrapped tightly around the older man's boots, face buried in the leather. Screaming, desperate for him to stay hidden in his shitty Moscow apartment.

_"It is the highest honour to give my body to our Party and Motherland."_

_"They are going to **fucking** kill you! They have **no** idea what they are doing!" _

_"I have to serve our country, Kolya."_

_"Please, Seryozha, **please**..."_

The so-called _super-soldier_ program was suspended just before Sergei was deployed to Leningrad to participate. Nicholai had never sobbed in relief before.

Mikhail clearing his throat cut through the silence, drawing Nicholai away from his memories and catching the grin off of Sergei's face. 

"I assume I will be given ample training on countermeasures for all of... these, then?" He said, motioning towards the tanks with a casual hand.

The four main UBCS platoons had been populated with selectees, one-hundred and twenty men in total, who would be arriving from their respective corps within the next two months for training. Umbrella was hastily arranging their recruitment -- lump sums wiring themselves internationally every second the men stood and discussed. Some wires were going to prisons to arrange releases after contracts were signed, voluntarily or not. Some, to corrupt police to arrange arbitrary arrests and force recruitment that way. The means justified the ends for Umbrella, and Mikhail knew he had much to learn before his ragtag team of bootleg mercenaries were assembled.

Sergei nodded quickly, "Of course. We will meet with the virologists tomorrow." He turned towards the tank again, smirking. "This was a... small introduction."

Mikhail nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as a chill suddenly tickled his back.

"You can go, comrade." Sergei said, cocking his head towards the Captain, "Leave me and _Kolya_. I have something I need to discuss with him."

"Yes, Sir." The older man bowed his head in a formal military fashion, eyes briefly darting over to catch the confused expression Nicholai was casting on his superior.

"I will see you both tomorrow, then." He said, and turned to make his way towards the elevator that had shuttled them to the underground.

Mikhail's departure left a black hole of silence in the laboratory. 

The faceless ghosts had already gone long ago. Now, there was nothing but the simmering hiss of machinery. The soft, occasional bubble of the tanks. The clicks of something turning off or on in the distance.

Sergei was still intently focused on the humanoid in the tank, a small smile still dancing on his lips as he scanned the body of the creature. He made no effort to fill the silence he had created by sending Mikhail away, which left the younger man even more confused. 

After a few minutes of silence, Nicholai licked his lips, huffing. "Well?" 

The Colonel broke his concentration, turning towards him with childishly pursed lips. 

"Yes?"

Nicholai rolled his eyes, "Yes? _**You**_ asked **_me_** to stay."

Sergei grinned widely, nodding once. Nicholai rolled his eyes again, shaking his head at the older man with a venomous look of annoyance. Casting his chin over his shoulder, the Colonel loudly called into the blackness of the far end of the laboratory.

"Ivan!"

Nicholai gasped at the sudden screech, head jutting in the direction Sergei had called towards, listening to the echo reverberating through the metallic walls of the underground. 

There was silence.

And then there were footsteps.

They tinned across the ground. Boots on metal in a slow, meaningful stride.

Closer. 

Closer.

"What the fucking fuck is that..?" Nicholai murmured, too shocked to project anything above a breathy mutter. 

The creature stood as tall as Sergei, proportions almost identical in every way. Its attempt at human features were obscured by a nonexistent aura -- blank eyes, unmoving face, and grey, lifeless skin. It wore a coat not unlike Sergei's, long and thick, brushing a pair of leather boots. The creature stopped less than a meter away from him, standing alongside Sergei confidently. 

Nicholai's eyes were unblinking in awe, mouth slightly agape. Sergei was chuckling, lifting a hand to pat the creature on the shoulder as though it were an old friend. 

" _Kolya_ , this is Ivan. One of two -- the other is being _born_ right now." He grinned, craning his neck so his face was in the creature's line of sight, "Ivan, this is _Kolya_. We like _Kolya_. We love _Kolya_."

The low-grade grunting growl that had been humming residually from the creature's chest immediately paused. An alien click, a gurgle, and the audible aggression was transmuted by a sound not unlike the soft purr of a very large cat. 

"He is part of me..." Sergei beamed proudly, clutching onto the creature's arm like it was a close relative, "He was made from me. He is like my son, _Kolya_."

"So they have been experimenting on you..." Nicholai began, taking a cautious step towards the Ivan, examining its expressionless face intently.

"Everything has been a great success so far."

Nicholai slowly raised a shaky finger to the Ivan's cheek, glancing over at Sergei for approval before making contact with the faux-flesh. It was cold, textureless, and sent a shockwave of adrenaline through his body. Something about the creature made Nicholai want to run as fast and far as possible -- and it wasn't its primary purpose as a weapon. No. Nicholai had already been well-educated on the B.O.W program, far ahead of Mikhail.

It was the unnaturalness of it, the attempt at a human being that wasn't _quite_ right. It was a demonic simulacrum of life. But most of all, it was the few little pieces of Sergei he could pick up on. The tiny crook on the left alar of the nostril. How deep the eyes were set. The jawline. It was Sergei, but it wasn't. Nicholai shuddered, pulling his hand away from the Ivan's cheek. 

"What does it do...?" Nicholai asked tentatively.

Sergei sighed, " ** _He_** is my personal assistant."

"It is not a man." Nicholai scoffed, furrowing his brow for a moment in confused silence, "Is it?"

He shivered again when Sergei declined to answer but for a predatory smirk, running his tongue over his teeth in amusement. 

Nicholai watched as Sergei slipped a hand around the Ivan, positioning it to face him. Despite its massive size, the creature allowed itself to be puppetted easily, responding to the silent direction the Colonel gave it without resistance and seemingly understanding what was expected of it.

Clones in height, it was easy for Sergei to lean in to kiss the Tyrant, running his tongue across the creature's lips as he sucked the cool flesh loudly, bringing one hand up to hold the back of its smooth, bald head. 

Arms steady at its side and initially unresponsive, the Ivan began to mimic Sergei's actions after a few seconds -- as though it had been quickly studying them and learning the pattern through which the soft lips moved against its own. Nicholai's eyes darted from one set of lips to the other. From one tongue to the other. From one Sergei to the other. 

It was grotesque, but he couldn't break away from it. Not even to blink. 

The purring Nicholai had heard humming from the creature after the Colonel had introduced him as friend not foe was getting steadily louder. Louder. So loud it was tickling the inside of his ears insistently. He wondered if Sergei could feel it against his chest, which was now pressed up agains the Ivan's tightly. 

Sergei panted slightly when he broke away from his Tyrant clone, licking his swollen, reddened lips. The Ivan made a rumbling huff not unlike a bull or a stallion, and Nicholai was unsure if it was catching air -- _Did it even breathe?_ \-- or expressing approval.

"He is a man in every way we are, _Kolya_." Sergei said, a playful grin pulling at his flushed cheeks as he reached down to direct the younger man's attention to the massive, unrestrained bulge growing from the Ivan's hips. "Perhaps a bit more so?"

"S... Sergei..." 

Before his non-existent thought could be fully composed, the Colonel had began haphazardly pulling at the buttons on the Tyrant's overcoat, making quick-work of the thin belt at its waist and tossing it to the side unceremoniously. The thick, industrial fabric fell open with ease -- curtains pulling apart that revealed scenery of a perfectly chiseled, smooth body. One which almost resembled Sergei's inch by inch, less the scars of battle his had accumulated over the years. 

The Tyrant's greying flesh didn't carry to the the reddish-purple flush of its impressive arousal, one which didn't look _quite_ human, but made its demands and intentions known nonetheless. 

"He desires to breed just like we do..." Sergei said, licking his lips, "Do you want to be bred, _Kolya_?"

"N.. No!" Nicholai recoiled, "That's dis... filthy!"

Sergei tossed his head back in laughter, taking a swift step towards the younger man and grabbing him by the collar. Nicholai was taken off guard, and easily drawn closer to the scene he had so desperately wanted to keep his distance from. When Sergei dropped to his knees, Nicholai was awkwardly forced down with him -- leaving him directly facing the creature's monstrous organ. 

"At the very least help me get him ready, then." Sergei said smugly, beginning to unbutton his own overcoat quickly. Adjusting himself so he was kneeling on the opposite side of the Ivan's arousal, the Colonel began planting small kisses on the thick length, still fiddling with the buttons and buckles of his trench. 

Nicholai was wide-eyed, emotions rapidly dancing between horrified and excited as he watched Sergei so casually lick and suck at the solid, veiny lab-made flesh between them. As the older man stripped his coat, then shirt, Nicholai felt a dizzying, red-hot flush beat across his face. The dizziness blurred everything around him, making it impossible to notice the fact that Sergei was reaching out to grab the back of his head and push it towards the organ, his lips and nose landing against it and sending a shockwave through his head. 

"Come on, _Kolya_." He could hear Sergei mumble, before the moist sucking and licking sounds resumed.

The creature's flesh tasted bittersweet, entirely absent of the typical saltiness a human male would have. The texture was sticky, rough, gritty, and totally unlike anything Nicholai had ever felt against his tongue before. It was as though tiny ridges and bumps were imprinted on its manhood, and while they could be felt, they were too fine for the human eye to see. 

Tentatively dragging his tongue along the length, Nicholai shuddered, hands kneading the material of his pants. Once he reached the end of the organ, Nicholai danced his lips along the tip, finding Sergei's there enjoying the same thing. The two kissed with the organ between them, each tongues mingling, pushing, pressing, wrestling, treating the Ivan's cock as an obstacle in the way of swallowing each other's lips. 

_More._

The Ivan was audibly roiling, huffing and puffing like a wildebeest above them, though standing statue-still. Pearlescent purple-tinted diamonds began forming at the tip of its arousal, leaking all over the two Russian's chins as they continued their tongue tug-of-war over it. 

Gasping in delight, Sergei sat back on the heels of his boots to watch Nicholai consume the Ivan's drooling head as he'd done for the Colonel so many times, sighing in drunken arousal when he realised the younger man couldn't fit the Ivan into his mouth as deeply. The sight of Nicholai struggling to service such an impressive arousal, eager and content to suck whatever he could, was incredible, sending currents of pleasure through Sergei's belly.

The younger man released the head only when he desperately needed air, gasping and licking his swollen lips to break the string of sticky precum and drool that was leading him back to the creature's organ. 

"Enough."

Sergei stood frantically, drunkenly slurping up the moistness on his lips while one hand expertly pushed down his already-undone pants to coil around his boots. Leaning against the tank where the humanoid-like Tyrant was suspended, he offered himself to the Ivan, muttering something in Russian the creature responded to with haste. 

Nicholai watched with bated breath as the Ivan swiftly moved closer to his superior, grabbing him savagely by the hips. The hitched laugh Sergei squeaked out was one the younger man knew well, one which followed pain. The Ivan's hands brutally dug into the Colonel's flesh; Inconsiderate, mechanical, needy. It was concerned about one thing -- getting its vessel in the right position for breeding. 

The deep, long, slow penetration led to a barrage of sounds from Sergei. Gasps, whimpers, hisses, yelps. His fingers curled against the glass of the tank, searching for barring that wasn't there. His tongue slipped out of his scarred lips as the creature began to thrust harshly into him, dancing the length from corner of his mouth to the other as his eyes rolled behind fluttering eyelids.

The sight was esoteric. Nicholai's throat was dry. His head was spinning. In the years he'd known him, he'd never seen his Colonel splayed out and used in such a way, a willing vessel for the demands and desires of another. Sergei was always in control -- always the dominant force which drove pain and pleasure. The way in which he quickly submitted told Nicholai this wasn't the first time he'd been with _Ivan._

Nicholai's stomach and inner thighs started to burn. The haze in his head was beginning to infect every muscle in his body. If he hadn't still been kneeling on the cold floor, he likely would have collapsed.

Hand instinctively dropping to his groin, Nicholai began to knead the rock-hard bulge that had developed. Embarrassment wracked his body as he fruitlessly attempted to cast his eyes anywhere but the sight that had caused the arousal to begin with. The gasping sigh of pleasure that coughed its way through his clenched throat was paralleled by an equal gasp of shame as he shoved his hand through the belted band of his utility pants, searching for what was so desperately begging for attention. 

Despite his best efforts, his eyes continued to flicker towards Sergei and the Ivan, attention being drawn by the sounds alone which were _obscene_. Nicholai could see a thick, constant stream of the pearly ejaculate sloppily dripping down Sergei's muscular thighs; Glistening and reflecting the dim, flickering lights of the laboratory equipment. The slapping of moist flesh on flesh was abusively intoxicating.

Nicholai began rubbing himself under his pants, gasping and choking pathetically as he found a rhythm that almost matched that of the Ivan's abuse of Sergei's insides. His throat felt like it was closing up, only allowing single, screeching breaths through that delivered explosions of oxygen to his brain too little, too late to form coherent thoughts. 

He didn't want them anyway.

It might have killed him to think clearly about what was happening.

Sergei watched the younger man through the reflection in the tank, biting his lip in excitement. Cocking his head to watch him silently for a moment, he sighed in delight as he was able to take in the flushed look of raw, excruciating, unsatisfiable pleasure on Nicholai's face as the other man tilted his head back to emit a deep, simpering moan. 

The Ivan was picking up its pace, and Sergei knew the sound of its breathy grunts well by now. Taking a deep breath and steadying himself, Sergei cast an eye towards the younger man kneeling on the floor.

"What happened to my feisty silver fox, eh?" Sergei panted, laughing through the sighs of pleasure. "Reduced to watching and jacking off like a little bitch!"

Nicholai gasped, tears of humiliation welling up in his eyes. His arm felt like it was going numb from rubbing against the tight band of his belt, one he couldn't stop himself for one moment to adjust. 

"Say it." 

"N... no..." 

Sergei's hands squeaked against the glass of the tank as his sweaty palms lost grip on the textureless surface. 

"Say it or I won't be able to finish, _Kolya_." 

The younger man huffed through his nose, grinding against his arm feverishly and feeling the cool tears he'd blinked out roll down his cheek. The words were caught in his throat, backed up by all the moans and groans he couldn't emit. 

_Fuck you._

"I'm... a... little... bitch." Nicholai breathed the choppy words through a groan and a whimper. "I'm a _bitch_."

The Colonel smirked, licking his lips. His damp, sticky hair bobbed against his glistening face rhythmically as he dipped his head, the ultimate shockwave of pleasure flooding into his stomach. 

"Good boy." 

**Author's Note:**

> Whooooooa. That's raunchy for no good reason.
> 
> OOPS. >_> sorry for this. This should be deleted.


End file.
